Lily Rose

by Deborah Robinson

  Jeff sat down at the Queen Anne desk in her room and opened her school notebook that she had brought with her. The page on which she had written “Anna James Langvin” over and over in class stared back at her. With a swift tug she yanked the page out and threw it away. Then she started to furiously write down her demands.

  Studying her list a few hours later, she heard a soft knock at the door and knew it was Linda. The housekeeper smiled when she saw the empty tray.

  “Linda,” Jeff said, “please tell the Langvins that I will meet with them in the living room at six o’clock this evening to tell them my decision regarding their offer.”

  Linda simply nodded, picked up the tray, and left the room.

  For the rest of the afternoon, Jeff walked around the room, practicing what she had to say. The only time she’d ever had to make a case was in debate class at school, but never with such high stakes. This time, whether she won or lost would determine the shape of her future.

  * * *

  At six o’clock that evening, Jeff sat in the middle of a sofa in the Langvins’ living room, having arrived a few minutes early. She wore a black cashmere sweater, black trousers, and black flats. Her long blond hair was pulled back with a black bow. Although she didn’t wear any makeup, that only made her eyes even more blue and penetrating.

  Lars Langvin and Phillip Harris entered together, seating themselves on chairs opposite her. That was when Jeff understood no one else was coming. While she hadn’t expected Lillian, due to the woman’s brittle constitution, she was a little disappointed that Eric wasn’t there, even if he wasn’t of much use to her anymore.

  “Where’s Eric?” she couldn’t help asking.

  “He’s staying with a family friend,” Lars informed her. “He won’t be back until the day before school starts up again.”

  So she was truly alone.

  The three of them bypassed pleasantries, as they all knew this gathering was not going to be particularly pleasant.

  “So, Anna, have you given some thought to our proposal?” Lars looked straight into her eyes, as she imagined he might when trying to close a big business deal.

  Never once looking away, Jeff replied, “Yes, I have, and it is unacceptable.” She paused and then said with more assurance than she felt, “I have a proposal for you, and this is all I will accept.”

  “The Langvins have made you a fine offer—” Phillip Harris started to say.

  Lars held up a hand. “No, Phil. Let’s hear what she has to say.”

  Jeff stood, holding the yellow piece of lined paper from her notebook that contained her list of demands in return for putting the baby up for adoption and her secrecy. She had no intention of keeping the baby after it was born; they didn’t have to worry about that. But she was going to get what he owed to her. During the three days and nights that she had lain in despair in her bedroom, she had thought about all the things that she had yearned for over the course of her young life: money, status, a big house, and to be a socialite. She so wanted to be a socialite! She didn’t know exactly what a socialite was, except that such a person was wealthy, glamorous, and desired by everyone. Someone like Lillian Langvin. If she couldn’t marry Eric, Jeff would find someone from a family with an even more renowned pedigree. She would go to a college where she would join the most prestigious sorority, date the richest fraternity boys, and then marry the one from the best family.

  “First,” she said, “Mr. Langvin will use his connections to get me into a good college in the south.”

  Laughing a little, Lars shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  Jeff glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Surely you know people who can help you do that.”

  Phillip Harris looked like he was about to protest, but Lars waved him down once again. “Please continue.”

  “You will give me $100,000 up front and $50,000 each year for the next four years. In return, I will do as you ask and not put Eric’s name on the birth certificate, or ever reveal that he is the father of the baby.”

  Finished with her announcement, Jeff handed Lars the piece of yellow notebook paper. She had written her demands in perfect, block-styled handwriting and signed them with a bold, oversize signature—Anna James Jefferson. Lars glanced at it, then handed the paper to Phillip Harris, who quickly scanned it.

  “Miss Jefferson,” the lawyer said, “you are seeking a very large sum of money for your silence, don’t you think?”

  “I thought my silence was the most important thing in the world to the Langvin family,” Jeff responded, her hands folded calmly in her lap.

  “We feel that $100,000 is more than adequate for you to begin a new life after the baby is born and you get back to school.”

  “I don’t have any idea how my health is going to be during this pregnancy. There could be complications, and the baby’s life could be in danger. There isn’t any amount of money that you could compensate me with if something happened to either of us.”

  “Of course.” Lars tried to placate her. “However, none of that would be our fault.”

  “Fault?” Jeff raised an eyebrow. “Who put me in this position? You know, I have quite a good story to tell. One about how a rich boy on a poverty awareness tour took advantage of a poor girl from Kentucky. I’m sure your local paper would be interested in that.”

  Lars sprang to his feet. “Why, you little—” He would have said more, perhaps done more, had his lawyer not restrained him.

  Jeff moved not an inch from her position on the sofa. She knew she had Lars Langvin by the throat. Linda had said that these people were most concerned about how they appeared to others, and while Jeff didn’t know how she could make good on her threat, she knew it was potent enough if it got Lars Langvin to drop his mask. She had come to understand that while money was important to a family like the Langvins, what was more important was how their family looked. They had already lost a child; they couldn’t afford to lose another to scandal and disgrace.

  “Miss Jefferson,” Phillip Harris said, “can you please excuse us for a moment?”

  He drew Lars away from Jeff and into the Lalique room, where their murmuring voices were lost behind the crystal figurines. On the sofa, Jeff continued to sit calmly. While she would not have believed three days ago that she, a seventeen-year-old girl from Kentucky, could have outwitted the patriarch of an affluent Connecticut family and his lawyer, now her confidence was unshakeable. The baby in her belly had given her that power.

  In a few minutes the two men returned with solemn expressions. Phillip Harris was the one who spoke. “We will honor your requests with the following conditions, providing you follow them.”

  Jeff’s expression did not change, although inside she felt victorious. Her crazy teenage love for Eric was over. She couldn’t think about how he had let her down and not supported her. All that mattered was that she had won the battle. “What are your conditions?”

  “Upon the baby’s birth, you will give it up for adoption to social services. You will provide a clean birth certificate with the state seal omitting the name Eric Edward Langvin as the father. You will disclose to no one that he is the father of this baby. Ever. You will not discuss your visit to Greenwich and the Langvin residence with anyone, now or ever.” He paused briefly and then continued, “Tomorrow, you will fly first class back to Lexington and a car service will take you home. From then on you will not contact anyone in the Langvin family ever again. All questions—and I trust there will be none—will be directed to me.”

  “And the money?”

  “You will receive $100,000 up front, which will be wired to a Lexington bank that we deem is most appropriate. The other $200,000 will be placed in a New York bank trust, which will provide you $50,000 each year for the next four years. This agreement is to be discussed with no other party. Is this understood?”

  “Yes,” Jeff answered simply. “What about college?”

  Visibly wincing, Lars cleared his throat. “The admiss
ions dean at Emory University owes me a favor. I assume that school is acceptable to you?”

  “It is.”

  Holding Jeff’s school notebook paper by the edge, as if he could barely stand to touch it, Phillip Harris said, “I will go prepare the document and we will sign in the morning.”

  He stepped out of the room, leaving Jeff and Lars Langvin facing each other. Slowly, Jeff got to her feet and, with her back absolutely straight, looked at Lars with unwavering eyes. She held out her hand.

  “I appreciate doing business with you, Mr. Langvin.”

  Lars took her hand and gave her a begrudging bow. “Good luck, Ms. Jefferson.”

  * * *

  As the black town car drove away from Viking Manor, Jeff turned once to look back at the house that she had once hoped would have welcomed her. For weeks she had dreamed of being in Eric’s arms, a declaration of love from him, a fancy ring, a family that would embrace her into their exclusive fold. Maybe she’d gotten something better though: her freedom.

  She imagined herself on a warm and sunny campus in Atlanta where she would meet new people and become an entirely new person. All she had to do was make it to her due date. The baby was the last obstacle in her path, and after it was given up for adoption, she would truly be free to be whoever she wanted to be.

  The last glimpse of Viking Manor disappeared behind the trees, and Jeff turned to face the front. She was leaving the old Jeff behind her—the young girl who believed in fairy tales and romance, love at first sight, all of that childish nonsense. The new Jeff was savvier than that. She now understood that what she really wanted could only be gotten with cold, hard cash, and that someday she’d look back at this little interlude up north as the beginning of her education.

  Chapter 6

  AFTER JEFF RETURNED TO PARIS, what had happened to her in Belle Haven almost seemed like a dream. Except in a bank in Lexington was $100,000 that had been wired to her within a few days of her return. Now, rather than simply dreaming about Eric Langvin during her spare time as she had before the holidays, Jeff imagined the real things she would buy with her newfound fortune. Designer clothes, for one, and jewelry. Maybe a car that was a million times better than her mother’s old Pontiac. But all that would have to wait until after she had the baby, and after she had left home for college. She counted on Lars Langvin to hold up that part of the deal as well.

  As the months went by, Jeff had more pressing matters to think about; namely, how to hide her pregnancy from her mother and her friends at school. Fortunately, basketball season had ended without the team going to the state championships, so she had an excuse for not participating in cheerleading practice anymore. Her uniform no longer fit anyway. Otherwise, she dressed in baggy clothes, transitioning from oversize winter sweaters to blousy tops and loose dresses when the weather grew warmer. She was lucky that her height, and the fact that she carried the baby low, made her protruding stomach easier to disguise. Her friends were either oblivious or too involved with prom to take much notice.

  Jenny proved to be more difficult to fool.

  “You seem to be putting on weight, Jeff,” she observed one day. “Is everything all right?”

  “Mom!” Jeff feigned hurt and dismay. “I guess I’ve been drinking too many milkshakes at the Paris Grille lately.”

  Jenny stepped back to look at her with a critical eye. “It just seems so unusual for you. Maybe you should go see a doctor.”

  “That’s not necessary, Mom, I just need to go on a diet. I promise I’ll go on a diet right this minute!” Covering her face with her hands, Jeff pretended to tear up.

  “I guess I could stand to lose a few pounds, too,” Jenny admitted. “I’m sorry, Jeff.

  She moved to give her daughter a hug, but Jeff ducked away, not wanting her mother to discover that what was making her shirt billow out was not too much junk food, but the hard, round ball of her stomach.

  Jeff was already seeing a doctor—a female gynecologist in Lexington who had been recommended by the women’s clinic. To cover up her appointments, she told her mother that she was going to work at McAlpin’s after school, but she had actually quit her job at the beginning of the year, never having returned the fancy clothes she’d stolen. On those afternoons, when she left school, she would walk around the corner to the town car she’d hired for herself, which took her to Lexington.

  Sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s made Jeff feel young and inadequate. Many of the other women came with their partners, and if they didn’t, Jeff would check their left hands to see if they were married. All of them were. She felt so self-conscious about it that she took the gold wedding ring from the jewelry box where her mother had put it after her father left, and wore it to her appointments. Even if no one else cared, it made her feel less alone.

  At her twenty-week appointment, her doctor asked if she wanted to find out whether the baby was a boy or a girl.

  “No thanks,” Jeff replied, then thinking that she sounded too callous, added, “I want it to be a surprise.”

  To tell the truth, she didn’t care what sex the baby was. It was going to be given up for adoption right after it was born, so why bother? Jeff refused to think of the creature she was carrying in her belly in that way. She didn’t think of names, she didn’t think of tiny fingers and toes—she didn’t think about anything beyond making it to July 4th, her due date. The Fourth of July was sure going to be explosive this year.

  After her appointments, Jeff would have her town car drop her off in the shopping district and she would stroll around the stores, getting a preview of what she could buy. Once, she was walking down a street when the window display in a children’s clothing store caught her eye. She couldn’t help stopping to stare at the exquisite, embroidered pink dress on a white-limbed, headless child mannequin. In that moment she allowed herself to imagine what it would look like on a real child, with flaxen hair and aquamarine eyes. Then, with a shake of her head, she tried to push the vision from her mind.

  To distract herself, she stopped in front of the entrance to a five-star hotel and stepped inside. The sound of a tinkling fountain met her ears, as well as the hushed murmur of guests’ voices echoing off the marble floor.

  “May I help you, miss?” a concierge asked.

  “I was just looking for the bar,” Jeff said. She might as well have a drink, since she had an hour to kill before the town car picked her up.

  The interior of the bar reflected the Thoroughbred horse world, with its brown leather furnishings, tartan plaid chairs, and subdued lighting. Large framed prints of famous Kentucky Derby winners marched across the wine-colored walls. Sitting at the counter, Jeff tried to think of what to order. She knew she shouldn’t because she was pregnant, but surely one drink couldn’t hurt. It’d have to be something special. She pictured Lillian Langvin in her crystal sitting room, eyes glittering like blue glass, a martini in her hand.

  “I’ll have a vodka on the rocks,” she told the bartender.

  The first sip had its intended effect of completely clearing Jeff’s head of any thoughts related to the reason she was in Lexington in the first place. It also emboldened her to look around at the other patrons. Since it was early evening by now, the bar was starting to fill with men getting off from work; some meeting their female companions, but others by themselves and giving off a faintly predatory vibe. Jeff knew that with her stomach concealed beneath a floaty dress, her pregnancy had made her face fuller and more appealing. She must look at least 22, judging by how openly some men were staring at her.

  Basking in the attention, she didn’t notice the man who slid into the seat next to her until he cleared his throat. He was tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed, moderately attractive in a well-cut blue suit. In his mid to late twenties, he was not her type—although, she reminded herself, Eric Langvin was no longer her type, either.

  “What’s a beautiful girl like you doing here?” he asked.

  “Waiting for someone.” As she lifted her g
lass, Jeff made sure that the light caught her mother’s wedding ring on her hand.

  Noticing it, he chuckled. “Everyone here is waiting for someone, just not the person you’d think. So tell me why you shouldn’t be waiting for me.”

  Jeff smiled sweetly. “Because I’m seventeen, and I’m pregnant.” She shifted slightly in her seat so that the curve of her belly became apparent, then laughed as the man stammered an excuse and moved away from her faster than if she’d suddenly sprouted horns.

  Still, she thought, it was nice to be appreciated. For the first time since she’d been with Eric, she felt the tingle of possibility. At the end of the hour, with the aftertaste of vodka bitter on her breath, she got into the town car and watched as the lights of Lexington faded into the bluegrass.

  * * *

  The second of July was a hot, muggy day, with storm clouds threatening on the horizon, and Jeff was absolutely miserable. Her entire body was drenched with sweat, and as the baby was almost due, she could hardly move. She just sat on the front porch, fanning herself, not caring who might drive by and see her.

  The only saving grace was that her mother was gone for the weekend with her new boyfriend, Dodge Atkins, an army veteran she had met through a coworker at the boutique. Dodge was a good old southern boy and seemed to truly love Jenny. Once, he even told Jeff that her mother was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Jeff was glad that her mother had found someone like him, although primarily she was glad that he occupied most of Jenny’s time. On the occasions that he was over at their house, Jeff just smiled at him and served him sweet iced tea like a dutiful daughter.

  On that Saturday morning, Jeff sat on her mother’s bed, watching her pack for her trip to Lake Cumberland with Dodge.

  “Jeff, what if he proposes?” Jenny asked, her eyes alight in a way that made Jeff wonder who was the teenager here.